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Fanon Canon: Phantom Ascent
Never Saw them Coming Nighttime in Karakura Town used to be a peaceful and relaxing time of day, when one could simple lay their worries to rest for a few hours and enjoy a soothing night of sleep. But tonight, there was something... anxious about this typically quiet city. Most people in their beds found it hard to close their eyes; some of them were even pacing around their beds in a restless manner. Even for those who had no Spiritual talent whatsoever, they could all tell that something was very, very wrong about tonight. The night had seem to have gotten unreasonably darker. Indeed, even with the full moon shining brightly above the skies and the various city lights dotting the large settlement, the streets were coated in a shade of black that could drive even the reasonably sane to question their own reality. It felt downright sickening to be near this darkness, which obviously warranted that getting further inside of it could prove fatal. So at a glance, no one left their homes for fear of making contact with it. This was only for the residential districts of the town, however. Near the more deserted parts of Karakura, particularly the warehouse section, some night-wanderers had apparently not taken enough caution. Within the ever present dark shade that was over each of the cities streets, dozens of bodies of humans were scattered about under it's black haze, and while they weren't in excessive numbers, these supposedly lifeless corpses would still warrant great caution to any who saw them. But this wasn't the only thing that was off-setting about tonight. There was a particular yellow warehouse in this sector, but it's door, unlike the others, appeared to have been blown open. A large smoking hole, big enough to fit a tractor-trailer through, was in the center of the door's broadside. The warehouse appeared to be almost entirely black on the inside, save for a handful of spotlights that would give way to some clear vision, but it didn't seem to matter... as the darkness outside of the warehouse was slowly creeping in. Finally, a sound could be heard: the patter of feet rapidly making contact with the ground, along with excessive panting, the signs of someone sprinting as fast as they could. This source was a seemingly young girl with brown eyes and blonde hair with two spiky ponytails, wearing a pink hoodie and sweatpants. She was sweating heavily; tears were streaming from her eyes but she was not crying, perhaps due to the fact that she did not have the time to sob. A large serrated cleaver was in her right hand as she continued her mad dash towards the door, but this mighty weapon had a large crack in it's center; the blade appeared ready to fall apart should it hit a hard surface. It was Hiyori Sarugaki "L-Lisa!!" she yelled with a mixture of fright and anger, turning her head to look behind her as she neared the door. A foolish decision, as she would be unable to see the long pole that was seemingly extended from the wall to her right side, just before the hole in the door. "Lis-GURK!!" she grunted as she turned her head just in time for the pole to crash into her neck and send her crashing to the floor. Her head smacked the concrete ground hard enough to draw blood, which caused her to grunt once again in pain. "The fuck... was that...?!" she angrily asked to no one in particular, grasping the new wound on her head before looking over to the pole's source. What she saw caused her to gasp and instinctively cover her mouth with her cleaver hand: it was Lisa Yadōmaru, impaled and pinned to the wall with her own, halberd-shaped Shikai. Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, and flies were beginning to gather around her body. "Oh...oh god..." the girl began to sob, trying her best to keep her voice low. As fast as she was trying to make it out of this building, she couldn't stop herself from mourning her brutally murdered friend. "I'm gonna kill him.... I swear to god..." she began to mutter between her sobs, grabbing her cleaver as a pink colored energy began to gather around her manifesting in tendrils. "I'LL FUCKING KILL HI-". She was cut off once again, this time by a hand that grabbed her collar, a hand belonging to someone who was running just as fast as she was previously. Looking up to see who it was, she found that it was her fellow Visored, a bruised and slightly burned Love Aikawa. "Love?!" she yelled in anger and surprise, noticing that they were now a fair distance away from the building. "Did you just leave Hacchi in there with him?!?!" Love initially didn't respond, instead donning his toothy Hollow Mask without a single motion. He twisted himself around, slinging Hiyori towards the direction that he was previously running, before opening the maw of his Hollow mask. A crimson orb of energy gathered between the sets of teeth before it was unleashed in the form of a massive beam, completely obliterating the warehouse, and hopefully, whatever it was that had forced them out. Hiyori's tears seemed to almost completely dry after this, as she stood back on her feet and delivered a powerful kick to the back of Love's knee. This forced a grunt out of him, as well as caused him to kneel on that particular knee, just enough so that Hiyori could move to his front and grab his neck with both of her hands as tight as she could. "The fuck are you thinking?!?!" she yelled, rearing a fist back to punch Love as hard as her body would allow her. "You just killed Hacchi like he was nothing!!?!? So what, are you going to just kill me too, to spare me from whatever the fuck that thing's going to do?!?!" she continued before Love almost effortless pulled her hands off of him and stood back to his feet. "Keep it together!" he angrily yelled, pulling his Hollow mask up over the top of his head to glare at her right in her eyes. His face was sweating, and although he appeared to be keeping a composed demeanor, it wouldn't take much for one to see that he was in just as much stress as Hiyori was. "Hacchi's fine, he made it out of the building before either of us did." he continued, looking back up at the burning ruins of the warehouse they used to call home. "We've got to get the word out to Shunsui and the others; this shit could get out of hand quick..." It was then that his heart seemed to stop, as his eyes widened and a slight gasp escaped the gaps between his teeth. Within the smoldering flames of the warehouse stood the figure that had been terrorizing presumably the entire city. He was tall, nearly two feet above Love himself, and he wore a tattered brown trenchcoat with a large hood over his head, obscuring all of his facial features in darkness. Slowly, the man began to raise his two arms up to his sides, which subsequently caused the flames that surrounded him to dissipate, and the darkness that surrounded his feet began to rise next to his hands, following their exact motions. "Not even a dent?!" Hiyori thought to herself, gulping as she clutched her cleaver with both of her hands. However, Love firmly placed his hand on her shoulder, causing her gaze to quickly shift to him. "No, Hiyori." He said in a stern voice, staring down the hooded man that had murdered their friend. "You're faster than either me or Hacchi; you can outrun this motherfucker faster than he can kill us." he continued, his last statement seemingly implying that he had already accepted his fate. Hiyori, of course, had to object, ripping her shoulder away from his hand with a snarl. "If you think I'm just going to leave you and Hacchi here..." "This isn't a request, Hiyori-san." the simple voice of their friend, Hacchi, said, the round and pleasant looking man appearing behind the two of them. "If someone isn't told about what this man is capable of doing to this world, then every living thing in existence will be in grave peril." he continued, a sad expression on his face as he went on. "I'm sorry Hiyori-san, but this is out of the question: you must warn the Gotei 13, immediately." Her mouth dropped open slightly, the tears beginning to well back up in her eyes once again. Her shocked face looked up towards Love, who merely smirked and nodded in response, and back to Hacchi, who managed to put back his trademark smile for her one last time... and then with another snarl, she clenched her eyes shut and began to run away, deep into the building alleyways behind them. Love then looked back towards the hooded figure; the fires that previously surrounded him had completely vanished, and the darkness that had surrounded his feet was now materializing around him. He then began to quickly walk towards the two Visoreds, the darkness moving in sync with his footsteps, appearing as waves on a beach. Love then clenched his Zanpakuto, wordlessly releasing it into it's colossal spiked club form, while Hacchi used his Flash Step to appear on the top of the building directly behind him. With that, Love pulled his Hollow mask over his head and began to quickly run towards his new opponent, clenching his giant club with both hands. "Come on, you rat-bastard!" he yelled, starting to lift his weapon up into the air. "Let's g-URK!!" he grunted as the hooded man continued walking, but outstretched his left hand to grasp Love's neck. The force used in this grab was unlike anything the former Captain had experienced; it was like a bear-trap that had just locked onto his neck and he couldn't get it off. Unwilling to let his weapon go, all he could do was clench the man's hand with his free one and try to stop the man's pace. The hooded man continued walking towards the spot that Love once was, the latter's feet skidding and stomping as hard as they could to stop his opponent's movement, but to no avail. Then, with the same amount of force applied to the grip, the being through Love through the building that was in front of him, causing him and his club to not only fly through it, but the structure behind it as well. "Love!!" Hacchi called out with alarm, quickly pointing his arms down at the hooded man, who was still in clear view. His signature orange barrier, shaped like a cube, materialized around the hooded man, immobilizing him from further movement and hopefully giving Love a moment to recover. He didn't expect what was coming next, however. The hooded being tilted his head up slightly to the right, looking directly at Hacchi, before shooting his right arm up towards the round Visored. Five tendrils of the darkness around his feet immediately shot up towards Hacchi, at a speed that the latter was unable to react in time too. The bottom three tendrils tore the corner of the building Hacchi was on apart, while the other two wrapped themselves around the man's shoulders and began to drag him down. "Urgh! No!!!" Hacchi yelled as his feet hit the darkened ground. Instead of touching solid concrete, he felt as if he had been drug down into a pool of quicksand, and his body only continued to sink. His hands and his waist were submerged into the dense and wet-feeling darkness, as the hooded man stood in front of him and stared him down. Before Hacchi could react, the man's left arm clasped over the immobilized Visored's face. His body began to glow with a dark blue energy, energy of which that began to feed into the hooded man's left arm. Over this exposed arm were several arcane, black markings, the center of which contained an upside down star, but upon absorbing the blue energy, this star transformed into what appeared to be the shape of Hacchi's Hollow mask. The energy then dissipated, and he released his grip of Hacchi, whose eyes had rolled into the back of his head, and his skin had become a sickening pale color, before his body was slowly drug into the shadows until not a trace of him was left. "RAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!" an enraged Love leaped from the hole of the building he had previously been thrown through, raising his club over his head with both hands and swathing the weapon with a mighty burst of flame. Just as the weapon came down upon the hooded man, however, the darkness around the latter's feet shot up into the form of two pillars, both of which caught the club in midair and forcefully destroying the flames that were previously cloaking it. With Love's hands still on the handle, the pillars of black slung the man and his club around in an arch, planting the Visored's back flat into the darkness-submerged street. "Ugh! The fuck?!" Love shouted in anger, his hands still grasping the club, but not for long. The darkness that clasped onto the club was released, and the hooded man simply walked over and ripped the giant weapon from it's owners hands. He raised it above his own head, the mark on his arm changing to reflect that of an Iris, the emblem of the 7th Division, before slamming it down onto the immobilized love. While such an impact would have normally caused a crater in the ground, the darkness prevented such from happening, once again making it seem as if he had struck a pool of dense water. There was another sound, however, the one of bones being crushed under the force of the impact; if Love had somehow survived a blow like that, then he wouldn't survive what came next. The club was left stuck in place, and the darkness slowly began to drag it, as well as the presumed corpse of it's owner, down into it's maw, as it had done to Hacchi. With both forms of opposition out of the way, the hooded figure looked out towards the distant city. He could sense the presence of Hiyori a few miles away, and if he hurried, he could intercept her before she could get the word out to his enemies. While it seemed reasonable for him to chase after her... he instead decided to turn the other way and begin to walk in the opposite direction... as if he wanted to be discovered and known about. The darkness that was around every street corner of the city began to quickly materialize a few feet in front of the man, taking the shape of a small spire that was just about the same height as himself, before he walked through it like a doorway. And with that, he disappeared, and Karakura Town's night once again appeared to have gone back to normal. Well, except for the few dozen corpses that dotted the sector. The Shields of Soul Society It was another sleepless night, unfortunately. Captain-Commander Kyōraku sat upon the same desk as within the barracks of the first division; hunched over, reminiscent of a sleep-derived individual, as he looked down at what appeared to be an old scrapbook. The pages of the book looked as though they had been worn for some time now. Kyōraku's one remaining eye scoured the contents of the pages he was open to. On his side sat a cup of tea that had been sitting there all night, barely sipped, that had grown cold and dark. On the opposite end of the desk lay scattered papers, potentially a sign of work that Kyōraku had either finished or merely neglected to complete. With a heavy sigh, the leader of the Shinigami closed his only good eye and placed the book down upon the desk. Slowly, he picked himself up out of his chair, stretching out his arms as cracks in his old bones could be heard. And once he did, he made his way toward the opening that faced the entire ; shrouded in the darkness of night. But a glimmer of light happened upon the horizon. It was clearly the end of night in the spiritual realm, soft shimmering rays piercing the darkness and rising from the scenery's edge. "I suppose... There really is no other choice. We must move forward... no matter what pools of blood we must leave behind." resounded the thoughts of Kyōraku. A soft gentle breeze entered the office room, fluttering about the papers on the desk only slightly to make them aware of its presence, as one could then see the page opened in the book that Kyōraku spent all night observing. It was two young boys; one was clearly Kyōraku in his youth, but the other was a strange . Both were smiling brightly, if not a little naively; such was the prospects of childhood. Regret was not typically present in Kyōraku's mind, but apparently, the events of the recent past as well as a strange uneasy feeling would cause this uncharacteristic man to unknowingly put on display some small crack of emotion in the tinted window that is the Captain-Commander's heart. The rays began to illuminate the Seireitei as morning finally arrived... --- The somber atmosphere that seemed to have enveloped the Human World and even Soul Society could be felt in nearly all of its residents. A restlessness that ached down to their very bones, an easiness that pervaded their thoughts as the darkness of night foreshadowed an evil that was to come. As dawns early light stretched across the Second Division barracks, it illuminated bodies strewn across the rooftops and floor. Debris littered the ground, it was like a warzone. If that warzone had been an ongoing party. In his office, Kurama blinked his bleary eyes as consciousness returned to him. Attempting to stand up he finds the sudden rush of motion disorienting, groaning in the process as the tell-tale signs of a hangover rears its ugly head. All around him collapsed in various states of disarray where members of his division, some clothed... some not. The poignant stench of booze fills his nostrils causing another wave of nausea and that is when he finally notices what he is wearing... Skin-tight spandex and black leather? must have stopped by, if he was wearing this outfit. The bruises across his body and the scratch marks on his backside were the next indication that things had spiraled into the realm of erotica. In front of his own division no less. He palms his head in irritation. The amount of blackmail this would require... shaking his head once more, he carefully maneuveres his way to his desk. With all the elegance of a brute he slumps into his luxurious chair; a piece originally crafted by a famous Kuchiki artisan over three centuries ago - courtesy of Shigenaga. Though the haze of his hangover clouds his mind, his senses are still razor sharp, and he hears the door to his office open. There stood his precious little minion - Kazuo Hanazawa. What greets the Lieutenants eyes was a scene one would normally find in a brothel, or questionable movie. Add to that the outfit his Captain was wearing? With speed born from countless hours of grueling training he retrives the camera hidden in his sleeve and takes several pictures of Kurama's current dress, before muttering a spell that seals it and its contents out of Kurama's reach. Kurama's brief look of disbelief gives way to a smoldering glare. Kazuo merely smiles in return. Kurama blinks, once, then twice before nodding his head approvingly. He gestures for Kazuo to take a seat. Where in the mess of bodies was anyone's guess. When he spoke his voice was hoarse, likely from a night of drinking but no less commanding despite the circumstances. "Do you have anything to report my minion?" he says with closed eyes. "It's official, I'm not being paid nearly enough for this. This was not part of my contract" the Lieutenant thought to himself, suppressing a sigh. Dutiful even in this situation, he calmly pretended that he had not just procured incriminating evidence on his own Captain. Holding a variety of documents he began to read aloud from each one. He resolved not to sit, for while there was a couple of chairs, they were either broken or glistening with some strange liquid. Water, probably, at least he hoped it was water. "...The Kidō Corps have expressed their thanks for our assistance in resolving that embarrassing situation with the pet hamster and backfired spell work, it was messy, but our agents managed to get it under control. The hamster is back to regular size and now only eats vegetables and fruit. There was no casualtie-" Kazuo was abruptly broken off when the 4th Seat, Moritake Nomi grabbed ahold of his left leg and brought it to his cheek, cuddling with it. The brief lapse in Kazuo's concentration passed quickly as the Lieutenant straightened his posture and attempted to ignore his subordinate. Who'd by now begun to trace sloppy kisses up his ancle, nope, he was definitely not getting paid enough for this job. "Nemu Kurotsuchi.. lets play doctor." That was a bit much, breaking himself off once again, Kazuo frantically attempted to free his leg from the lovesick 4th seats clutches. He succeeded and took a cautionary step forward, out of reach, before resuming his report. "As I was about to say, there was no casualties, our agents know how to handle a pet hamster." He handed out some documents to his Captain, they were meant for his eyes only. He got some of those once in a while, he nodded briefly before he looked over the last document. Reading it too aloud "We've also reportedly dealt with a Bakeneko problem in one of the rukon districts, apparently it had devoured one of the maids and was posing as her. We destroyed the creature, unfortunately we've also suffered heavy casualties of our own, such beings aren't easily dealt with. I sure hope the monster cat wasn't one of your relatives, Shihōin-taichou, if such a case, my condolences." Kazuo took a step towards the door, eloquently stepping over his moaning division. "That would be all, Shihōin-taichou. The documents I've handed to you are from the Onmitsukidō, for your eyes only. Given how agitated the courier was, I'd say it's expected that you answer today. Have a good evening, Taichou" With that, he left the room. --- Even though it was only the daybreak, the tranining hall of the Third Division Barracks was occupied. Dim orange light shone through the windows, timidly illuminating the omnipresent darkness that drowned the world outside. However, the shadows had been receding slowly, reluctantly, with every passing moment. Suddenly, there was a loud thud from within the building. "Get up, Yuji. We aren't done", uttered a low, somewhat melancholy voice. Captain Teruo Akui. Young, but promising Shinigami who had been a mere Fourth Seat Officer not that long ago. He was tall and fairly muscular, as expected from a warrior of such a rank. However, his appearance was far from ordinary. The natural black of his spiky hair and the hazel colour of his right eye was contrasted with a prominent grey patch and peculiar pale blue, respectively, on the left side. Furthermore, the skin of his exposed left arm was afflicted with spots of severe depigmentation that stood out amongst his medium complexion. The disease seemed to spread as far as his neck and left cheek. He was clad in the traditional Shinigami uniform, which lacked the left sleeve, complete save for one vital element - the Captain's haori. That particular element of his garments was a symbol. He could not suffer it stained during a sparring session. "That's not fair!", protested a higher-pitched yet similar voice. "You've almost punched me in two, brother!" Lieutenant Yuji Akui. A teenager who had been barely able to finish education at the when the made its move years ago... He was toned and in a healthy condition, but still obviously a child. His medium length, unkempt hair were dark brown and his eyes hazel, with no trace of depigmentation to disrupt his appearance. He too wore a complete Shihakushō for the purposes of training, with the Lieutenant's badge used as a buckle at his belt. His widened eyes were very visibly sunken. He was laying on the floor, in the middle of a cavity caused by his earlier impact with the surface. "Remember, Yuji, evil never relents", said Teruo in the tone of a wise sage unfit for someone of his age. There was no form of warning or discernible transition afterward. Just an abrupt leap as he somersaulted in mid-air to perform a rotating kick to crush his own little brother. Fortunately, Yuji got up and evaded the sudden strike in the nick of time. Meanwhile, the foot of Captain Akui crashed into the floor, prompting a shower of splinters to rain upon the training hall. Frustrated, the younger brother launched a ferocious counter offence. His strong right hook was blocked, however, and he quickly proceeded to deliver a rapid series of punches to overwhelm Teruo. Nevertheless, the older brother withstood the assault with unwavering composure. Seeing the futility of this approach, Yuji withdrew slightly and rotated in a powerful roundhouse kick... and then gasped when he realised Teruo had casually grabbed his leg in transition. "W-woooow!" The Captain tossed him with little visible effort. Somehow, the younger brother managed to regain balance in time to land heavily, but in a controlled manner. He was panting. He wiped the droplets of sweat from his forehead. He was tired, exhausted. He looked at his older brother. That odd, sullen expression and the ominous glint in the eyes... but no signs of fatigue. "I'm tired, brother. Let's finish for now, I need to sleep sometime", he said as he straightened up. "Evil never sleeps, Yuji", retorted Teruo calmly. "Oh, cut this out!", exclaimed the Lieutenant as he pointed his index finger at the elder sibling. "You aren't evil, you're my stupid brother!" Teruo closed his non-matching eyes, then slowly shook his head. "You don't understand, Yuji. The purpose of this training is to prepare you for the inevitable combat with the forces of evil", he said shortly afterward. "I am not your enemy, but you should treat me like one. Forget that I'm your brother for a little while, Yuji. Focus." "Dad wasn't that harsh on me", countered the younger brother, pouting his lips. There was a sudden change in Teruo's demeanour. Subtle, but significant. "This is true. But remember, the purpose of this training is to make us both stronger. Stronger, so our close ones won't suffer anymore", he uttered in a grave tone. "I was there, Yuji, and I couldn't help. I couldn't help because I wasn't strong enough. I was weak. TOO WEAK!", he bellowed abruptly with his left fist raised high. Yuji flinched in response, staring sheepishly at the fist, now wreathed in crackling energy the colour of which reminded him of a dying flame. "Let's do this so we aren't weak anymore", continued Teruo in a drastically more composed tone mere moments later, his left arm lowered. "Let's keep this up so we can be sure we can protect our close ones. Each other, Yuji", he said with a faint smile. Then, he approached his younger brother unhurriedly and placed his left hand on the latter's head. Yuji looked upward, at his unusual countenance, largely unaffected by the sudden mood swings but touched by the meaning of the words. He sighed quietly. Someone has to protect him, thought both brothers simultaneously. --- In the distance, the true caretakers of the soul society continued to do what they did best, save lives. Unlike the rest of the divisions, those belonging to the Fourth Division were offered absolutely no free time to goof around. Time wasted resulted in the deaths of innocent citizens and rugged warriors. No member of the fourth could live with such a concern protruding their conscience. It was for this very reason that sleep was a privilege in the fourth divison, and never guaranteed. Sleep was for the weak, and only made work more troublesome. While one slept, they could have instead spent the time accomplishing some form of work; inching closer to their goals. No, sleep was for those who were unable to do anything else, such as the patients who lied motionless on the many beds of the Sōgō Kyūgo Tsumesho. Those who had suffered greater wounds than others, particularly shinigami, were given their own private rooms, where as common souls were all fitted into one large room, each of their beds neatly arranged beside one another. A trained nurse was issued to every single individual patient, attentively watching their every move. Seated shinigami served primarily as managers, who oversaw the work of the others. When trouble arose, it was their responsibility to take initiative, and sadly, such an event was not uncommon. In one of the more reserved hospital rooms, an injured shinigami prepared himself for the worst. He had been unable to breathe for quite sometime now, his oxygen being transferred to him through a machine. Several wires were now connected to his body in order to get an efficient reading on his state of being. Various screens were also present throughout the room, one of which began to beep quicker and quicker as time wore on. The man's life was now beyond his control. His eyelids began to betray him, forcing his eyes shut. His last image was that of his Zanpakutō, which had been resting along a nearby wall. As his eyes closed, an alarm gave off in the captain's office, altering those inside of the dying patient. It was a code red, meaning only one or more seated officers were capable of saving the man from his critical condition. With her lieutenant, third, and fourth seats out respectively, it was a call for the captain, and she would see to it. Rikuri Suigyoku, the captain of the Fouth Division leaped over her office desk the moment the alarm went off. Her long, vanilla white coat flowed behind her, catching wind as she gained speed. She was truly quite the beauty, having taken over the wrights of soul society's most attractive kunoichi following the untimely death of the 10th divisoon lieutenant, Rangiku Matsumoto. The transfer of such power was certainly not her doing, but more so a collective agreement among the male shinobi of the soul society. In truth, she possessed a stupendous physique, from shapely thighs, to a plump butt, all the way to her enormous breasts. She was downright gorgeous, whether she had chose to accept it as a fact or not. However, such trivial thoughts did not peek her interest at the moment. Right now, all that mattered was saving the life of a fellow shinigami. A distinctive flapping sound, reminiscent of fat bare skin slapping together could be heard as Rikuri continued down the hallway. This was the punishment she received for having been blessed with such tremendously large bossoms, who could never stay still no matter how much their master commanded. The jiggling of the woman's breasts only worsened as she halted to a sudden stop, turning a corner and entering the designated area of what was the room of the dying patient. Nurses moved out of the way as Rikuri flew through the room. The beeping of the heart monitor was slower than ever before. Wasting no time, Rikuri leaped into the bed, balancing herself atop the dying patient. She sat on his lower abdomen, placing a thigh on either side of his body, before planting both her palms on the mans chest. She glanced quickly to examine the heart monitor, before leaning forward. Her soft, full, pink lips fitted perfectly around the mouth of the dying patient, beginning a useless CPR procedure. Pumping his chest, Rikuri was quick to determine such a method would have little to no effect. It was time to get serious. Running both hands through her luscious brown hair, Rikuri prepared herself for the next medical procedure. As the captain of the fourth division, Rikuri possessed a unique healing method, the likes of which had never quite been seen before. A technique that was the result of several centuries of research, sucking on her skin proved to be an effective method of efficient recuperation. However, there was one problem, the man was unconscious, and therefore, would be unable to do so. At least, on his own. Passion, was the trait that most admired about Rikuri. No matter the circumstances, Rikuri was a winner; she would do whatever it took to ensure success. This would prove to be one of those times. Taking a deep breath, Rikuri leaned forward once more, engaging the man in a gruesome lip lock. If the man was unable to suck on his own, she would simply have to do it for him. The room became completely silent, aside from the dying heart monitor and the heavy breathing belonging to Rikuri. Using her own mouth as the catalyst, Rikuri forced the mouth of the dying shinigami to mimic a sucking pattern, allowing for the man to absorb the nutrients residing within her lips. The man's eyes opened slowly in time, expressing disbelief at having such a beauty in his bed. He would take advantage of the situation, knowing she would not be able to stop herself so long as she was in the midst of the procedure. He took it upon himself to enjoy himself as best he could, tying his arms around the woman's waist, which later descending to her plump assets. The man's life was fortunately saved, but as he walked to the counter to check out of the fourth division barracks, the sight of his face brought a smile to the nurse behind it. There was now a large, bulging red imprint of Rikuri's hand on the side of his cheek. Ironically, it would serve more so as evidence than it did as a punishment, as it was truth that he had gone far beyond what others could only dream of. --- Among the earliest of mornings, a man was awake even before the crack of dawn. Before the light appeared. His eyes were set onto the horizon even during the darkness that surrounded him earlier. The man looked relatively young; a young man which appears to be a simple teenager with a muscled figure. As the wind of the morning blows onto his jet black spiky hair, his deep, ominous red eyes were still set onto the horizon, as if he was searching for something...something that he could never find. The purple kimono he wore was still sort of drenched. He took it from the laundry late at night before it dried, after all. He feels comfortable whenever he wears it, and wouldn't this be the right time to feel comfortable? His left hand was holding a cup of what appears to be chocolate milk, whereas his right hand was holding onto the railing. He was on the edge of the Fifth Division barracks, standing few meters away from the captain's personal room and office. The door of his office was open, open ever since the early morning, and with that, a simple, classical, repetitive music sounding peacefully, breaking the silence. Even though he liked the silence, it brought him the feeling of loneliness, a feeling he once enjoyed, but not now. He figured any music would be good to break this feeling of his, and he was correct; the music he "accidentally" bought from the World of the Living. The music was truly soothing...until a large thump appeared behind the man. On the stairs upward to his position and his office, a girl, carrying what appear to be bags and bags of dried and neatly folded Shinigami uniforms. A sense of helplessness appeared, coming all from the girl carrying all those laundries. Of course, what did you expect from a little girl carrying all those heavy stuff? The sense of helplessness changes drastically to a sense of anger. The hands of the girl were shaking, but they were not shaking because she was scared of him or because she was too tired to carry them anymore. Rather, she dropped all the laundries, previously in the clutches of her hands, now on the floor, but somehow they were all still neat. The face of an angry, young girl appeared. Her face was bright red in anger, despite her possessing the symbol of delicacy in the Division. Her unusual purple eyes set onto the still relaxing man, her uniquely styled blond hair, tied into a ponytail set high along with a braided ponytail down bellow, follow the shaking of her anger. "Vin! You can't just order me around to do stuff like that!" the girl was set ablaze as if bright flames were surrounding her. She was talking to the man, the man who is known as the one who led the Division; its captain, Alvin Ryūren, calling him by a simple nickname. She looks too young to be calling the captain through a simple nickname, and she even looks too young to be included inside the Division. Too young to be carrying a Zanpakutō, which was on the side of her left thigh all along. She looks as plain as an eleven-year-old girl who would still be busy thinking about her studies instead of doing business with the Shinigami. But despite her looks, a symbol situated at the tip of her braided ponytail says otherwise: it was the lieutenant's armband, wore as a hairclip for her hair. "Relax," the man said calmly. "You yourself made the new recruits to do errands you're too lazy to do, am I right?" Again, the sense of anger was changed into a sense of shock, which was paralleled on her shocked features hearing what the captain just said. "Oh, Succubus, you're too easy to predict." Succubus? A nickname for someone as young as she is? True, Succubus refers to the alluring, sexual female creature, which is her, the lieutenant of the Fifth Division, Cynthia Kazuryū. Both the captain and the lieutenant prepared nicknames for each other, and the "Succubus" nickname refers to Cynthia's true nature, seducing men as she always did, despite her looks as a simple grade-school girl. "Eh, never mind that. What are you doing anyway? And why did you take away your kimono while it was still drying?" the lieutenant asked. The frown of the captain turned into a smile. His previously bored face turned into a face of happiness. It is extremely rare to see Alvin smiling like this. With that expression, Cynthia's previously shocked expression changes as well; she replied with a simple, devilish grin mirroring an actual Succubus. They both knew...something worth enjoying is near. The something he couldn't find earlier is ready to be found. --- As the sun rose, so did the barracks of the Sixth Division. The Law and Order of the Soul Society demanded that they were attending to their duties, and so they did. Some unseated officers did the sweeping, while others were attending to the raking of the leaves. As they did so, a certain presence came upon them. A man standing with a certain regal air as he strode through his division. Here was the Captain of the Sixth Division, Byakuya Kuchiki. The man's status was undeniable, as all who were occupied in their duties bowed to him as he walked past them, acknowledging each and every officer that had been in his division. The man had entered his own barracks, closing the sliding doors and sitting on his desk, attending to the paperwork as his routine expected. However, while doing so, the Captain felt compelled to do something prior to engaging in his formal duties. He looked towards the edge of his desk, where three photographs had been present. The these photographs where those that the man had felt compassion and attachment towards; they were his pride. But he looked at them no longer. Closing his eyes for but a brief second, as if he were apologizing, his attention was focused towards his documents, as he patiently awaited his lieutenant to give him the reports of the division's activities in the past week. An hour earlier Byakuya’s Lieutenant, Takashi Sakuma, had been standing on a small hill overlooking a fallow field in east Rukongai. He felt a soft, cold breeze push against his face as the first light of dawn glowed on the horizon, and watched as his hawk, Kohaku, circled rather lazily above. He focused his mind on his hawk’s and, closing his eyes, could see through hers. The field rushed past far below and he saw himself standing on its edge. Kohaku seemed sleepy and lethargic. Hurry up. He told her silently. She brushed him off irritably and Takashi returned to his own mind. He watched her for a moment before he sighed and sank to the ground. He pulled out his own breakfast: two onigiri, one with dried fish and the other with pickles, and ate while he waited for Kohaku to finish. Behind him, they Seireitei lay in still and in shadows. But as the sun rose its warm light spread over the city, glittering with gold and white. The wind picked up as morning came. It was stinging and bitter, and rattled through the dry grass of the field. Winter was nearly upon them, the trees were now bereft of leaves and there was frost each morning from the ever-colder nights. Even though Takashi was a member of the Gotei 13 and safe from freezing and starvation, he could still not help but feel a sense of dread for the oncoming winter. When he turned back Kohaku had disappeared from the skies. He stood up and peered over the field, trying to spot her in the grass. He whistled shrilly and she answered with a sharp kit-call. Takashi followed the sound and found the hawk ripping into a medium sized rabbit just outside a burrow. Blood and entrails were spread everywhere. He waited patiently until she had finished and was once again perched comfortably on his shoulder. Then he turned back towards the Soul Society. The cold had set deep into his skin and he walked quickly to shake it off. Then he checked the position of the sun and suddenly registered that he was running late. Kohaku would be irritated when he used Shunpo while she was still preening herself, but it could not be helped. He reached the Squad’s barracks a few minutes later and went straight to the Division’s main office to pick up the report he had compiled the night before. Kohaku was, indeed, rather annoyed with him, and as he made his way towards the Captain’s office asked: Why do you show such deference towards him? Takashi glanced at the bird, who was deftly cleaning her feathers with her beak while he walked, and tried to gauge her mood. He is my Captain. It is my duty to respect him. Kohaku did not reply. You know me better than anyone, little one. Why would you ask me this? She ruffled the feathers at her neck in a shrug. Because he holds no respect for you. Takashi shook his head. No, he respects me as his Lieutenant. Nothing more, nothing less. As he stopped outside the door to the Captain’s office he added to himself: I could not ask for anything else in a Captain. He did not acknowledge what he knew Kohaku had perceived, he did not even admit it to himself, but deep down, he also feared his Captain. Takashi quickly checked to make sure both he and Kohaku were presentable, then he slid open the door and stepped inside just as the clock struck seven. The room was neat, as usual, and soft blue light diffused through the window in the back, softening the edges of the desk, bookshelves, chair… Takashi noticed, without wanting to, the pictures of Byakuya’s former Lieutenant and family sitting on the desk, and caught his distant expression. He had seen pieces of his Captain’s silent, hidden grief before, but it still unnerved him. There was no place for condolences in the Gotei 13, and both he and his Captain must continue with their duties— without hesitation, without looking back. “Good morning Captain.” he said with a curt bow. Byakuya had been waiting for him. He was standing behind his desk, and he inclined his head mildly at the greeting. Takashi felt Kohaku straighten up and puff out her chest as she regarded Byakuya with a condescending air. Stop that. He told her sharply. “Lieutenant Sakuma,” Byakuya acknowledged his Lieutenant. “I have the report for you sir.” “Very well, proceed." Takashi took the thick document and began to summarize each report, moving methodically through the stack of papers. “The Hollow that appeared in East 32nd District was destroyed by the task force we sent out on Monday… Apparently there was a disturbance involving a rampant, over-sized lab rat from the Kidō corps. The situation was handled by the 2nd Division, our 6th Seat witnessed the incident…” Takashi turned over the last paper. “Ah, yes. Sensors installed by Squad 12 in Karakura Town have registered a higher amount of Reishi concentrated in that area. They say it is of no concern, but any Division sending operatives to the Human World should be on the look-out for Hollows.” “Higher Reishi concentrations, you say? “Yes sir, that is correct.” Byakuya stroked his chin with his thumb and forefinger, thinking for a moment. “Put in a post to Squad 12 for any further information on that report.” “Yes sir, understood.” Takashi reorganized the papers, extracting the report from Squad Twelve, and handed the rest back to Byakuya. “What are your commands for today sir?” he asked. He looked up from the report and found that he had met Byakuya’s gaze. He was appraising him evenly, coolly, with no hint of emotion in his steel blue eyes. “Proceed as normal.” he said. “That will be all for today, Sakuma-san.” Takashi bowed and left without another word, and Byakuya turned back to his work for the day without a second thought about his Lieutenant. --- A soft, deep thumping somewhere in the distance is what brought Hein out of his slumber. It was the muted sound of a drum signaling the hour. He counted to himself as he listened— it was five in the morning. For a moment he lay still, but soon his energy began to coalesce in his body and he grew suddenly anxious to be awake. Without another moment’s hesitation he threw off the covers and stood up. The blood rushed to his head, pleasantly numb, and he yawned, stretched, and snapped his kosode on over his shitigai. Already the first thin rays of light were breaking on the horizon, he could tell by the subtle hint of warmth in the air. Hein threw open the sliding shoji panels and strode outside to the veranda. He breathed in to the depth of his lungs. Then, like he did each day, he strode barefoot across the grass lawn to the shed at the back of the Captain’s quarters. In the two weeks that he had been there, Hein had transformed the single-roomed complex into a small training hall, complete with tatami and . He quickly ran through the exerting regimen that he used to start the day, including various push-ups, pull-ups, stretches, and other strenuous exercises. Although he was a man who typically resisted habitual rigidity, and even as a Captain, he was not exempt from the basic physical routines that kept one in top condition. After he finished he returned to his room and put on his haori, folding it across his waist in his signature manner, and firmly securing his Zanpakutō to his obi. Hein slipped on his wooden geta and clacked down the veranda to find the mess hall—and breakfast. As usual he had a vicious appetite. The cooks were dismayed when he appeared at the door to the kitchen an hour before anyone else in the Squad, but he took a small amount of satisfaction in disrupting their normal pattern. After eating his fill he emerged from the mess hall, still munching on a rather large as he swaggered through Squad 7’s Headquarters. When he passed by the Division’s main dōjō he heard the coordinated stomp of feet and earnest shouts. He paused for a moment to listen. The men training inside had Reiatsu signatures that were perhaps a few degrees above the other Squad members: they were old group. A diligent and eager band of men, Hein had so far left them to their own devices, and there was no respect between them. He knew they were frustrated that he did not take his role as Captain seriously, and he was annoyed that they tried so hard despite having no potential. Hein was only interested in strength. None in his Squad could yet impress him. Continuing past the dōjō he headed towards the end of Squad 7’s ground. As he neared the Guard House he could hear the rough voices of men and the rolling of dice across a table even though he was still several streets away. Terrible early for gamblin,’ that’s goin’ for nothing. He thought to himself. As he grew closer he pressed up against the side of the building, keeping to the cool edge of the wall where he knew he would be hidden in shadow, and masked his Reiatsu so his approach could not be discovered. He found the gamblers in a corner, the smell of cigarettes and sake pinpointed their location. They were the night watch, probably just relieved by the morning shift, and Hein noted that the gathering was so sophisticated they even had a small coal brazier to keep their fingers warm as money slipped from them. To his interest, as he listened to the men’s conversation, he discovered they were actually talking about him. Chortling and laughing, rather. “What do you think would happen if we rearranged all the furniture in his quarters?” one asked. “Hey Tanaka, you should loan him some money.” “Why?” “I bet he’ll say “I’ll pay you back next time I see you.” the others groaned. “Hey, I’ve got one: a blind man walks into a bar… and then a table, and a chair…” the others continued to groan. “I saw two blind men get into a fight in the Rukongai once.” A man with a particularly raspy voice said seriously. This seemed to catch their attention. “What happened?” “I said “I’ll bet my money on the one with the knife.” They both ran away.” Even Hein chuckled at that one. “Nah, here’s a better one. Let’s get one of the gals to strip in front of one of the Squad's meetings—” Hein listened carefully to suggestion, nodding in agreement at the details. “Hey, that sounds all right.” he interrupted. Everyone froze to stare at him in shocked horror. “Real idea ya got there.” No one said a word. No one even dared to move. “What? Ya look like ya’ve just seen fish fly.” “Captain, what a surprise.” the dealer, Tanaka, worked hard to smooth over the awkward situation, rubbing his greasy hands together nervously. “We were, uh… just getting ready to start another game. Care to join us?” Hein looked over the table. “What’s the game?” “ .” Hein smirked to himself. He could win at that game blindfolded. Hey, those indecent puns are catchin ’ on. “Yeah, deal me in Tanaka-han.” This seemed to shock the men even more. “What, ya got a problem with that? Don’t matter. It should be terrible easy to clobber’ a blind man.” They murmured in hushed whispers to each other, undecided. Hein decided for them. He sat down at the table, chasing one of the younger players from his seat. “Waitin’ is goin’ for nothing. Let’s start.” Eventually, Tanaka got the hint that Hein would not be leaving anytime soon, and began to shuffle the cards. The men were trading hushed remarks all around him, but Hein paid them no heed. He was listening to the dealer and the even cadence of the cards slapping onto the table. But he noted that there was a pause between the deck and the table. With a little more concentration he was able to catch the sound of Tanaka’s thumb scraping over the corner of each card that left his hand. Real interesting. Hein thought. He picked up his own cards ran his fingers over their surface. The men began to snicker to themselves, no doubt laughing over his attempt to “read” the cards. But Hein was quickly able to tell the hand he had been given: ten, seven, and two. In other words, a winning hand. There were tiny scratches in the right top corner of each card, barely perceptible except to a trained touch. Uncreatively, the kanji matched to each card. A few moments later and the betting started. Hein, however, did not place any money on the table. He turned to the dealer and flipped the cards face-up, tossing them onto the table. “Ten, seven, two.” he said. The men gawked, and slowly began to grasp the implication of Hein’s feat. One of them placed a card on the table and rubbed it vigorously with his palm. Hein could feel as Tanaka grew more and more uncomfortable with the situation, he shifted nervously and licked his lips. “These cards are marked!” one of the men exclaimed. “I bet the dice are loaded too.” Someone added, and suddenly they were clamoring for their victimization to be heard. But Hein beat them to the punch. Without warning, he lunged across the table and grabbed Tanaka by the collar. With one foot on the table he leaned over, twisting the man’s shirt tight on his neck. “Hey you indecent piece of shit. Are ya tryin’ to cheat a blind man out of his hard-earned cash? That’s terrible rough.” “No sir I…” the man stuttered. His breath was shallow and fast in Hein’s face, heavy with the stench of onions. “I’ll clobber ya.” Hein growled, releasing some of his Reiatsu at the same time to add weight to the threat. The man seemed to wilt under the spiritual pressure. “I’ll…” Tanaka swallowed and could not finish the sentence. “I’ll pay! I’ll pay!” he stammered in a high-pitched voice. “s’ that so?” Hein lifted Tanaka off his feet and, grinning widely, hurled the man bodily across the street. He slammed into the wall so hard the plaster crumbled and he fell through into the building on the other side of the wall. Dust filled the air, and Hein caught the scent of urine and blood. “Well, which of ya should I finish next? I’m in a terrible rough feeling.” The men who were still standing began to back away. “Don’t be indecent. Dump the money on the table ‘fore I dump ya.” He heard as a the men frantically dug through their pockets and tossed the coinage onto the table. “That’s all right. Now if I was ya I’d hit the road.” The men did not need another moment’s urging. They took off, their straw sandals slapping against the pavement until they faded into the distance. “Well then.” Hein cracked his knuckles and swaggered over to the wall where Tanaka lay buried in the rubble. “Tanaka-kun.” he laughed out loud as he entered through the hole in the wall. The building had been a small storage room for straw and grain, and the air was choked with chalky dust. Hein reached down, rather casually, and picked up a piece of straw. He chewed on it as he kicked aside bits of brick until at last his foot contacted a soft body. “Ah, there you are Tanaka-kun.” He grabbed the man by the shirt collar and dragged him back outside to the street. Tanaka had gained some of his senses back by then and moaned pitifully. “'spose I’ll finish this.” Hein said aloud. “Please, no!” Tanaka tried to pull away as Hein reached for his Zanpakutō, and began to whimper when he pulled it a few inches from its sheath. “Smolder,” Hein commanded, at which point Tanaka began to sob hysterically. “Put a cork in it ya dumb ass.” Hein did not release his Zanpakutō completely, instead sending a few bright sparks onto the table and charcoal brazier where sake and marked cards lay spilled across the ground. “Heh.” With a grin he ignited the sparks, and the table erupted in flames. Tanaka watched, his hysteria somewhat nullified by the sudden display of some one hundred kan melting into the ground. Hein snapped his sword back in its scabbard and the flames subsided. “Hah, looks like your goose is real cooked!” Hein exclaimed. “Well then.” he marched back down the street, dragging the unwilling Tanaka behind him. “Where are you taking me?” he managed to gasp. But Hein did not get the chance to reply as just then his Lieutenant, Kōsetsu, appeared in front of them. “Captain Ueda!” she called as she ran towards him, her kimono flapping behind her. Hein’s smile instantly faded. What indecent shit is it now? He thought irritably. “Watch out!” Kōsestu continued to run right past him. Hein turned around and tracked her movement. Something was burning, he noticed a sulfuric smell to the air, and without warning there was a sudden roar of flame. Apparently, some of the embers from Hein’s Zanpakutō had caught fire in the storage room, causing the structure to explode with heat. Kosetsu rushed fearlessly towards the flames before she stopped, suddenly, and traced a pattern through the air with her hands. the symbol for water. She then extended both palms in front of her. “Kadō: Yururyū!” there was a burst of her peculiar, luke-warm Reiatsu and two pressurized streams of water shot from her hands and drenched the entire area, drowning out the flames until nothing but heavy, wet ash remained. Panting, Kōsetsu turned back to Hein. “Are you alright, Captain Ueda?” she asked, genuine concern in her voice. Exceptional. He muttered through gritted teeth. ---